


Friends Down by the Sanzu River

by yoshizora



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21913282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Two reformed youkai find solace in each other's company. Sort of.
Relationships: Murasa Minamitsu & Ushizaki Urumi
Kudos: 16





	Friends Down by the Sanzu River

**Author's Note:**

> i think murasa is one of the more fascinating characters (through sheer headcanon and extrapolation) of the entire touhou cast, and urumi is one of my faves from WBaWC, so i thought it'd be neat if they could hang out together

This part of the riverbank is quiet— not in the way that the entire river is quiet. In a heavy, oppressive way, the atmosphere seems to burden the spirit itself, a fog that seeps through the clothes and skin to muddle common sense. Poetic, perhaps. Depressing, simply.

Well, maybe that’s why humans tend to get lost so easily should they venture too far down the riverbank. Either way, none of it particularly concerns Murasa. The mud beneath her boots begins to dry and crumble the further down that fog she goes, until there are more stones than dried, cracked riverbed.

Then more stones. And more. Giggles carry through that heavy, oppressive atmosphere.

Murasa shifts the basket she carries on her back, though its weight is nothing to her. She deftly maneuvers her way around piles of stones as the scurrying of bare feet patters around her, disturbing the silence.

She comes to a halt.

“Captain!”

Respectfully, Murasa removes her cap.

“Hello to you too, Ebisu-chan.”

Eika peers up at Murasa, eyes bright and smile wide. In each hand she grasps a smooth stone. Other children are beginning gather and materialize around them, drawn by the affirmation of Murasa’s presence. Such spirits can’t strike fear in the heart of humans, least of all a fellow phantom; pity is a difficult thing to feel, as well. Murasa waves her hat to the rest of them, though her attention is only turned to Eika.

“You’re here to play with us! Aren’t you?” Eika holds up the stones, but Murasa doesn’t take them.

_Play with us. Play with us, Captain? Come play with us!_

“I’m on my way to visit someone else today. Sorry about that.”

The children groan in disappointment, but Eika still offers the stones, giving them each a firm shake in her direction.

“You’d be _good_ at it, Captain. Maybe not quite as good as myself…” Eika tilts her head, thoughtfully. She giggles. “I’ll go easy on you! Not too easy, though.”

“Later, maybe.”

“You could be a judge, at least?”

Murasa puts her cap back on. No, she doesn’t want to spend more time here than necessary. No, she doesn’t want to whittle away the hours and days stacking stones with these children. No, she can’t say why, nor the reason for her innate discomfort. Eika’s arms lower when she realizes Murasa really won’t take the stones, her lower lip quivering. Ah— damnit. Murasa rubs the back of her neck.

“I’ll play with you guys on my way back,” she says, and then against her own better judgment, adds: “Promise.”

Eika cheers, and the other children follow her example. They call out after Murasa even after she’s out of sight, until she’s walking alongside spider lilies and the Sai no Kawara is far behind her.

The air clears. Murasa takes a deep breath, just because.

* * *

“D'you really hate ‘em that much?”

Murasa tosses a sharp look in her direction, but there’s no clear bite behind it. “What are you saying?”

“The way you talk about those children is unsettling. That’s all,” Urumi says. That’s all, she says, and apparently that’s all there really is to it. She kicks her feet in the water and takes a not-so-dainty sip from one of the bottles Murasa had procured from her basket. It’s the kind with dark glass and unreadable words on the label, and a real spicy kick to the back of the throat. The good stuff. _European._ Murasa considers snatching it back, if Urumi is going to be so ungrateful.

Urumi tilts her head back, returning Murasa’s glare with a sidelong glance. Her smile is easygoing and relaxed. She’s still kicking her heels into the murky waters with little splashes.

“I didn’t come all the way down here to talk about those stillborn children, Ushizaki,” Murasa says, taking a swig from her own bottle.

“No, I guess you didn’t,” Urumi muses. “I hope ya don’t mind me pointing out how often you’ve been comin’ down here, though. Not that I don’t appreciate the company.”

“So just enjoy the company, then.”

Truth be told, even Murasa had lost track of how many times she’d neglected her duties at the temple to come wandering down to Urumi’s fishery. Byakuren hasn’t said anything about it, if she’d even noticed. But she must have noticed. Byakuren notices _everything_ , Murasa thinks. She presses her lips to the neck of the bottle, the cold glass warm against her even colder lips.

When did the visits start, anyway?

“Neither of us are the type to stew in silence.” Urumi has the gall to _wink._ “People around the village like to gossip. I’ve heard bits about that dastardly phantom of Myouren Temple with the silver tongue. Who else would they be talkin’ about, eh?”

“ _Silver tongue,_ ” Murasa scoffs. “I had no idea my reputation had suffered that much.”

“Ah? I would’ve thought it’s a compliment.”

“I keep my head down, you know.” It’s easy to talk to Urumi like this, when they can dangle their feet into the water and share drinks that would otherwise be confiscated by Byakuren. Murasa ponders over that for a moment, nearly losing her other train of thought. “You remember the incidents that plagued the Human Village, don’t you? The urban legends…”

Urumi nods, waiting for Murasa to continue.

“It looked fun,” she admits. “Ichirin went all out— even Hijiri decided to join the fray. Shou was _itching_ to go wild, but, you know— avatar of Bishamonten and all that. And I think she’s got a bit of a cowardly streak underneath it all. Don’t tell her I said that.”

“So what stopped you?”

“Maybe I also have a cowardly streak,” Murasa says, holding up one hand against the dim light of the sky. She flexes her fingers, scrutinizing the spidery veins and bony knuckles. Her complex isn’t _unhealthy._ Maybe she could even try to tan, once the season changes and they can eat watermelon.

“You never struck me as a coward, Cap’n.”

“Nah, I just try to mind my manners.”

Urumi lets out a hearty laugh at that, even thumping Murasa on the back. Murasa grunts and spits out half the mouthful of rum she was about to swallow. “You do have a way with words, my friend!”

Murasa wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Dryly, “Gee, thanks.”

Still chuckling, Urumi resumes sipping from her bottle and kicking her feet. A comfortable silence wraps around them. Not heavy, like the air was at the childrens’ riverbank, nor uneasy nor depressing. Perhaps it’s the river itself. _Water._ Spirits. She has half a mind to take a detour to go harass Komachi on her way back, but her promise to Eika lingers at the back of her mind.

Her eyes fall to the stone baby on Urumi’s lap, before turning back up to Urumi’s easygoing smile. They make eye contact.

“I was tempted, too.”

“Eh?”

There’s a flash of teeth in that easygoing smile. “The shrine maiden and her friends were all goin’ wild with those urban legends. What kind of youkai could resist a spectacle like that?”

“Hah… you do get me, Ushizaki.”

“I, however, am a _changed youkai,_ ” Urumi emphasizes, raising her arm so suddenly that the contents of her bottle would slosh all over herself if she hadn’t already downed more than half of it. “Even before that, with the, ah… religious feuds. I was only selling my fish to onlookers. Nothin' more.”

Murasa straightens her back. “I didn’t notice you.”

“Like you, I also try to keep my head down. At most times, I’d say,” Urumi’s smile goes crooked for a moment. She puts her bottle down and picks up the stone baby, cradling it in her arms, never breaking eye contact with Murasa. “Wanna know what I think? I think you were drawn to me, when we met for the very first time. That’s why you’ve been visiting so often.”

“Tch.”

“Who else could ever understand those urges?” Urumi leans in, her breath sour with alcohol. Yet Murasa doesn’t draw back, defiant and afraid and the memory of a heart thumping in her chest. She can't exactly deny it, after all. “We’ve both changed with the times, Cap’n. For the better? For the worse? Who’s to say?”

“For the _better._ ”

“Ah, because that’s what Hijiri Byakuren would affirm.”

“Hijiri would be right.” She keeps her shoulders squared, her own bottle set down as well. Urumi is still rocking the stone baby. Back and forth, back and forth. Murasa thinks of what lies further out within the Sanzu River, below the misty surface and its murky depths. Wreckages of the boats she sent down there. Bones, perhaps. Fish.

“Are we defanged, Cap’n?” Urumi asks, though it’s clearly rhetorical. “Look at us— an _ushi-oni_ running a fishery, and a _funayūrei_ following the path of Buddhism. Other youkai would be utterly outraged. I haven’t paid a trip to Hell in ages.”

“It’s not nearly as simple as that.”

“Is it?” Urumi finally leans back, smiling down at the stone baby she cradles. “I’m pleased with where I’ve ended up. This kinda simple life is nice. I’ve come to enjoy our chats as well, Murasa.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” She means it, too. Murasa tips back the last drips from her bottle and stands. Urumi follows suit, and as if in response to their movement, the waters slightly stir. Ripples spread from no point in particular, and little waves lap up over their feet.

Yes, she’d nearly forgotten about the fish. _Urumi’s_ fish. Murasa’s own thoughts on water had always been a great deal of internal contention, but she’d never paid much mind to the native creatures living within it.

Such matters rarely concern dead things, after all.

“Hold my baby, will ya?”

Murasa finds herself taking the stone without even thinking about it, as if her body is acting on its own. Further still, she takes one step forward, then another, then more until the water is up to her waist. That serene expression carved into the rock is soothing, when she looks down at it.

She… trusts this woman. No one in their right mind should. But Urumi’s claws are dulled and Murasa’s fangs are filed down, so she supposes it’s alright to empathize— as she’s wont to do these days, come to think of it, to the point where it becomes an easy sort of trust.

Urumi follows only a pace behind her, one hand resting upon her shoulder. Murasa absentmindedly cradles the stone baby as she continues moving forward, just as she’d seen Urumi do it.

The water comes up to her chin. There’s nothing solid beneath her feet now. Urumi leans in, her breath tickling her ear:

_”Don’t hold back.”_

Murasa’s hand shoots out to grab Urumi by the jacket at the same time the stone baby becomes _heavy_ , heavier than an anchor, even heavier than what a phantom like Murasa could bear.

They plummet below the surface. The air from Murasa’s chest escapes in a few quick gasps and a flurry of violent bubbles; the water is filling her nose, and mouth and ears and eyes, seeping into her, becoming a part of her, dread and terror and rage and _ecstasy_ drawing a silent laugh from her throat— 

This is familiar. This is right. This is that _craving_ that’d been itching like a spot on her back she couldn’t reach, couldn’t be scratched by dingy little toy boats or drinking tea with Wakasagihime by the shores of Misty Lake. The dim memory of a terrible death burns through her, that pain glossed and burnished by the pleasure of killing. It’s _not_ right. Hijiri would disapprove.

Murasa squeezes her eyes shut, and realizes her physical form hadn’t liquified. She’s solid.

The stone baby— it’s still tucked beneath her arm. An anchor. And in her other hand is a fistful of Urumi’s jacket, as she’s dragged down along with her.

Urumi’s smile is as kind and easygoing as it’d always been, and she catches Murasa by the wrist when she lets go of the thick fabric. Around them, the ancient fish approach, curious and maybe a little hungry.

 _Coccosteus._ Urumi points to one. _Synauchenia. Doryaspis. Thelodus._

Through that heavy stone baby, and the warmth of Urumi’s grip, Murasa finds steady ground. Urumi allows her to wrap her fingers around her neck, still smiling and pointing out all the strange creatures swimming around them.

_Dunkleosteus. Cobelodus. Stethacantus._

“You’re crazy, Ushizaki!” Murasa laughs. A few straggling bubbles escape her throat, rising upwards.

“I tame ‘em all myself,” Urumi says. “You’re welcome to help out if ya ever feel like it, Murasa. Thanks for holding my baby, by the way!”

* * *

They finish off the last of the rum and head off down the river together, clothes sodden with water and puddles left in their footsteps. Murasa hooks her arm through Urumi’s, and is pleased when Urumi pats her on the head.

“So, how about it? Let’s drown each other to our hearts’ content anytime.”

Urumi was right; no one else would understand. No one could really help her, just as no one could help Murasa— the ship phantom, not the reformed spirit with the silver tongue.

“I’ll bring whiskey, next time.”

“Hah! Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Eika and the other children lift their heads as the fog parts, and not one, but _two_ people approach. Though they’re a little damp, the children clearly don’t mind.

“Captain! You came back!” Eika cheers. “Ohh, and Ushizaki-san is here too!”

“Howdy, kids.”

“Ebisu-chan,” Murasa fondly clasps her on the shoulder. “I promised you, didn’t I?”

She doesn’t hate them. She regrets complaining about them, too, and now she understands the weight behind Urumi’s question. The children can’t help being what they are, but they are spared the burden that Murasa carries. They have no life to regret leaving behind, unlike a ship phantom; they only understand simplicity and the Sanzu River, and of endlessly stacking stones.

Murasa was _envious_ , then, as loathe as she was to admit.

It’s simply within her nature, she would argue. After all, she was born of rage and grief and killing intent, and jealousy is a part of that package. But these children are pure— Ebisu-chan, most of all.

Maybe Urumi knew all of that, though she had killed for entirely different reasons. Both of them had abandoned those parts of themselves, but…

A youkai’s identity cannot be erased so easily, perhaps.

Yes, they can drown each other to their hearts’ content. They can be happy, if only for these temporary visits. Murasa kneels down and smiles brightly at Eika. Behind her, Urumi cradles her stone baby in peaceful contentment.

“Let’s stack stones together, shall we?”


End file.
